Course Correction
by peteynorth
Summary: The plan to clean up the messes of the time-heist might create a better, albeit branched, future, and secrets revealed push Steve to live a life. Hints along the way imply he's meant to create ripples he couldn't possibly foresee at the outset of his quest to set things back to normal, and one mess from the time heist has no intention of being undone.


Pepper had been more than happy to allow the service to take place at her home, a questionable thing given how it had only been two days before that they'd had Tony's celebration of life. But she had insisted, pointing out that she'd been the one that had ushered Nat into their lives, and that it was only fitting that the team use the Starks' cabin to once again say goodbye to a fallen Avenger. Steve had thanked the widow Stark for opening her home once again, which Pepper immediately dismissed and insisted that they would always be welcome. That like the tower and the upstate complex, the Stark cabin would be home to the team. Not their headquarters, she quickly clarified, but that they'd be welcome there any time. Steve noted that was a wise clarification given what had happened to the other properties.

The service had been simple, subdued, a quiet grieving process for all. The surviving Avengers were all cried-out, tears flowed, hugs exchanged, but the only real sobbing came from the Barton children, and nobody could blame them. They ceased to exist, then reappeared what was to them suddenly, just to find out that their beloved aunt had sacrificed her life to bring them back. It was too much for them to take in…it was too much for Steve to take in at that moment too as he sought solitude in one of the large cabin's spare rooms. Steve Rogers loosened his tie, sat on the edge of the double bed in the dark guest room, rested his elbows on his knees and held his forehead in his palms as he stared at the floor. Memories of Natasha Romanov flowed through his thoughts. She had been family, one of the closest and most trusted friends he'd ever known, his only true and constant confidant through the five years of utter failure and grief, a period of pain her sacrifice had brought an end to. She had become a part of him, and now she was gone.

"You know Rogers," the voice of Nick Fury cut through the silent dimness of the room, something Steve had longed for five years to hear again, but he did think the spy's timing could use some work, "if she had to go, this was the way she'd want to." Nick walked into the room, letting the hallway light cut a swath in to illuminate a small sliver of the room. "I think even she would have to agree that whatever red was in her ledger, it's now wiped clean."

"Accounting was never my thing," Steve replied quietly, "I'm not sure that's how it works. But yeah, after what she did, there's enough black ink to make the red absolutely unnoticeable."

"She had a soft spot for you." Nick muttered as he sat on a chair across the small room. "Nothing romantic, but, well, you surprised her. Whereas your naïve insistence on always doing the right thing annoyed the hell out of me, I think she found it refreshing. A near impossibility for someone who does what we do to possess, and something that she used as a guiding example over the last few years, much to my chagrin."

"I was a friend." Steve replied, looking up and meeting the one-eyed gaze leveled at him. "I like to think a good one, but nothing more than that. Believe me, she had as big and as positive an influence on me as any I may have had on her."

Fury chuckled lightly. "Yeah, gonna miss her." Fury replied, leaning back in his chair and gazing thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "Was tough to keep it together when Barton's kids started to lose it."

"Can you blame them?" Steve replied in an almost scolding manner.

"No." Fury replied slowly, almost absently as he stood up and started to aimlessly pace around the room, feigning interest in the various decorations and bits of furniture. "She was in their lives before they had lives. She was actually with Barton when he came to me asking to arrange for him to have a normal, absolutely off the grid and untraceable civilian life for he and his soon to be wife." Fury lifted a Stark family picture that was framed and resting on a dresser across the room from Steve. "I had a few ideas on how to make that happen, but there was an expert in that sort of thing, someone who had pulled the alter ego – slash - completely invisible family life thing off flawlessly. This person was a legend at it. A spouse we knew existed, that had been an American soldier, but nearly nothing beyond that. At least with the kids we saw a couple of pictures, a son and a daughter, and there were avenues to find out a bit about them I suppose, but that was just for close SHIELD confidants. It was even assumed that her closest friend had no clue about who her husband was, and as far as I know, none had ever met the kids."

"You…you're talking about..."

"Yeah, your old sweetheart, Peggy Carter." Fury confirmed. "Don't even know when she was married, though I'd guess in or around 1950."

"She asked not to discuss her husband with me, only that they'd had a wonderful life together, and she mentioned the kids only sparingly. Based on her reticence to discuss them, I kept from looking any of her family up." Steve muttered.

Fury nodded and sat back down with a sigh. "In my early days at SHIELD, at least early in my higher-ranking days at SHIELD, but before I had the sense to give the woman the respect she deserved, I tried digging into her family a bit. Big mistake, almost ended my career there." He chuckled lightly. "Fortunately, she was more charitable than I probably would have been in her position. She didn't sabotage my career, didn't even really chew me out too badly, and years later even helped me set Barton up with a similar situation. But during my digging I did find a buried police report involving her son, Nathan. Turns out in 1961 he was hit by a drunk driver on a dirt road in Virginia where they apparently lived. The driver lost control of his car, hit the boy, then ran off the road, his car rolling over into a ditch. Now, according to the buried report, the driver swore he hit the kid hard enough to leave a dent in his car, and that minutes later, that boy, who the driver swore had a left arm that was broken badly enough to be bending the wrong way, braced himself against the car, and despite his injuries and being only ten years old, pushed his car over and into an upright position. Cops figured it was just the booze talking because a ten-year-old boy can't overturn a flipped car, and this broken arm was badly bruised, but the bones seemed to be fine. Oddly enough, when the lad was delivered to the hospital, that bruising was virtually gone, according to the medical report."

"Why are you telling me this?" Steve said, the gears behind his eyes clearly turning rapidly.

"Because I had a word with Banner about your plan to return the stones." Fury said, fixing his eye firmly on Rogers. "Ripple-removal?"

Steve nodded. "We caused a bit of chaos in our mission to get the stones. Only Bruce, Clint and…Nat" his eyes sadly dropped, "retrieved their stones in a way that didn't require significant correction." Steve chuckled. "I actually whispered 'Hail Hydra' into Sitwell's ear, then went ten rounds against my younger self. And don't even ask about Tony and Scott's attempt to retrieve the Tesseract."

Fury joined the light chuckle at hearing that. "So, what, use the Mind Stone Staff to erase a bunch of memories?"

"That was an early suggestion." Steve replied. "But ultimately, we decided that it would be best that instead of putting the stones back where we found them, I should just pop in moments before each team arrived in the past and give them the stones we have. They then pop back to a minute after they left, mission accomplished." He shrugged. "No ripples, and maybe…well, without past Thanos getting a hold of present Nebula, possibly we can keep Tony, and maybe Nat…well, we'll see how that works." He smiled hopefully but keeping that sense of hope subdued. He then took a different expression before continuing. "Of course, Thor begged that I allow him a few minutes with his mother, that the conversation that he'd had had been wonderful, freeing, and absolutely something he needed. Which got me thinking about the diversion to 1970 that Tony and I took. Obviously, Tony isn't here to tell me one way or the other, but I saw him chatting with Howard, and, well I have a feeling that it was cathartic for him. So maybe…hell, I don't know." He then looked up at Fury sternly. "But that doesn't have anything to do with Peggy's family."

Fury slowly made his way to the door. "Well, this is all way above my head, but it seems to me that perhaps some ripples may be worth making." He turned back as he got to the door. "If I'm right, it'd be a real solid if you could help me pick up a hammer in New Mexico in 2011. A lot of wasted manpower and resources on that little endeavor, and I hear you're pretty good at that." Fury smirked as he turned back around and left, leaving Steve to stare at the back until he disappeared.

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Steve slowly walked up the porch steps and stood before the screen door. The wooden door was left open to allow the breeze to flow into the house, and the sounds of activity could be heard just within and to the right, which Steve guessed to be the kitchen. Steve knocked. "Hello?"

"What are you doing, get in here." Came the unseen woman's reply. Obviously, she had been expecting someone and thought Steve was that person.

Steve hesitated, but decided to go in. "Hello, I don't…"

"You just missed T'Challa." Her statement, one given so casually, froze Steve in his tracks. "He dropped it off. He's still flabbergasted by you ambushing him after Tony's funeral, and the letters from his father and grandfather you'd been holding for him. Oh, and Shuri, wow, such a smart girl, would give Tony a run for his money, she says she had no problem turning your notes and blood sample into a working formula. She also said making the vita-ray generators felt like trying to rebuild a trebuchet, guessing that's a dig at the simplicity of nineteen-forties tech, but she verified they're ready and adjusted for someone with darker pigmentation." Steve slowly made his way to the kitchen and stared at the woman, one working at the lit stove with her back to him, long dark but graying hair flowing down to her middle back. "She muttered that had you picked someone from a royal Wakandan line all this could have been bypassed by just using the heart-shaped herb, but I told her you had your heart set on Sam, and as far as we know, he's not royalty." Steve had seen this woman, Jamie, seven years before, at her mother's funeral, but she and the rest of her family had seemed to intentionally keep from looking at him and tried to limit him as much as possible from looking at them. Outside the church it seemed almost all of them had been wearing sunglasses, and the introduction they did have was polite, but brief and rushed. This was the first time he'd had a chance to really look at her. The woman turned her head just enough to catch him in her periphery and nodded toward a large, round, flat leather pouch in the corner. "Anyway, the package is right there."

"Ma'am?" Steve muttered, absolutely confused. The woman stopped what she was doing, froze in place for a moment, before whipping around to look at him. Her eyes stretched wide, something Steve had seen many times before as people recognized him, but he knew that this was something different than the typical 'it's Captain America' realization. She looked to be in her late forties, which seemed impossible given that she was seventy years old, and had so many of Peggy's features, but it was her eyes that threw him. They weren't Peggy's, they…they were… his musings were interrupted as she gasped and covered her mouth, prompting him to nervously raise his hands and try to explain.

"Oh, Captain Rogers, it's a pleasure to see you again." She sputtered out.

"I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, but…" he stared intently at her, "Excuse me for staring, but in London you were wearing sunglasses, which masked…how young you look."

The woman's face flushed, and tears started welling up in her eyes. "You always were just so sweet, even when you weren't trying to be flattering."

"I beg your pardon?" Steve was completely thrown by what the woman was saying and the sense of familiarity she seemed to treat him with. But mostly it was her eyes that were staggering him. Blue eyes, with a trace of green, eyes that he saw every time he looked into a mirror, eyes that had belonged to his mother.

"Mom would be chiding me for losing my composure right now, but to hell with it." The woman muttered as she lowered her hand from her mouth, the tears starting to roll down now. "You're so close, for twelve years I've wanted to…well, you're here, guess it's only a matter of moments before you piece it together."

"What?" Steve was unable to make sense of what was going on.

The sound of steps on the porch and the screen door being pulled open forced Steve's attention away from the woman and he turned to see two men looking to be in their seventies walk into the room, both tall and lean though the bald one was hunched over and moving slowly, the man with hair moved fairly well, extremely well for his age. The one with hair looked up at him and a look of recognition came over his face. "Ah, so that's today, is it?" He helped his friend into a chair and walked over to kiss the woman claiming to be Peggy's daughter on the cheek. "Hey sweetie, it seems your husband's plastic hip still has a few kinks." 'Jamie' walked over to the much older looking man and gave him a kiss on the lips. The old man with hair turned to Steve and held up his hands palms outward in a faux sign of submission. "Relax, I'm not Loki."

"What?" Steve muttered, utterly bewildered, especially at how unbelievably familiar yet unknown this old man was.

"Just that the last time I stood before a younger version of myself he thought I was Loki and proceeded to beat the tar out of me." The old man chuckled. "I figure that memory is a bit more recent for you."

Holy shit! Steve finally put it together. "You…how? You can't be me!"

"Why not?" The 'other Steve' said as he sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the kitchen table. "You can't tell me you haven't been considering this possible course of action. Even before my chat with Nick I was thinking about it, so don't bother telling me I can't be you."

The sound of springs being stretched let everyone know that the screen door was being pushed open again. "Hey Aunt Jamie, Uncle Lee, where do you want the new dresser?" Steve poked his head out of the kitchen to see a racially mixed man who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties standing in the doorway with a long dresser hoisted against his upper back and held there seemingly effortlessly with one hand while the other held the screen door open. He froze, almost panicked at being seen doing something clearly exceptional, but quickly recognized Steve, and not with the wide-eyed amazement he was used to being recognized with, but with a broad grin and humor-filled wink. "Hey Grandpa, you mind holding the screen door while I walk this ungainly thing in?"

Stunned, Steve couldn't think of any reaction other than to walk over and hold the door to keep it from banging against the long dresser the young man was hauling. "Grandpa?"

The young man walked fully into the foyer and released the dresser but spun impossibly fast and caught it before it fell more than a few inches, and then gently placed it on the ground. He smiled at Steve, and then the smile broadened as 'old Steve' walked out to join them. "So, are there any 'don't tell him too much about his future' rules at play here?"

"I think that's about as much revelation as he can handle," Old Steve muttered as he followed his younger self into the foyer, turning and staring directly at him, "though I should probably point out that there's no saving Bucky, no saving Howard, or Kennedy, or King, no lying in wait at Logan Airport on September 11, no stopping school shootings, but frankly, you already know that, right?" Old Steve gave his younger self a hard stare. "Anyway, you came here to see if what Nick told you held any water."

"Yeah." Steve muttered.

"Whaddaya think?"

"Definitely water." Steve nodded. "And the other things that are going through my head?"

Old Steve gave him a confused look. "You'll have to forgive me, it's been a lot of years, even taking the seventy year freeze out of the equation. The mind starts to lose stuff after a hundred and ten."

"A hundred ten?" Steve was stunned. "You don't look a day over eighty."

"Erskine did explain that his serum would come with certain…effects, didn't he?" Old Steve sarcastically joked, then thumbed toward the young man next to him. "I'm a hundred twelve. Our grandson Chris here is forty-five. He's got kids in high school."

"Lucky kids." Chris muttered. "Now that we don't have to hide from young Grandpa anymore, they can go on to use their abilities however they see fit."

Steve's jaw dropped. "How? The serum impacted my genetics…my…gametes?"

"Living in the future sure has given you a potty-mouth." Old Steve joked. "Maybe it's time to fix that. What do you think?"

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The quantum tunnels, which were somewhat reminiscent of the time tunnels from 'Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure', faded away as the bright light that was typical of emerging from the quantum realm overpowered his eyes. He blinked a few times, finally catching sight of the dumpster in front of him. He looked around, confirming that this was in fact the alley he was hoping to land in, the sounds of battle echoing through the canyons of the city all around him confirmed that at least in a ballpark sense, he had arrived at the right time. The bright series of flashes erupting ahead of him at the mouth of the alley let him know that his timing was far more precise than just ballpark, and a moment later he was looking at himself, Bruce, Tony and Scott, all gathering their bearings after experiencing their first ever time jump, retracting their time-suits a moment later. "All right, we all have our assignments. Two stones uptown, one stone down. Stay low, keep an eye on the clock." Suddenly Bruce's bestial, 2012 version of himself landed in the street just outside the alley and proceeded to obliterate one Chitauri, intimidating another into fleeing for its life. 'Other Steve' looked up at 2023 Bruce and continued in a tone that was a cross between constructive and comical. "Feel free to smash a few things along the way."

"Belay that order, soldier." Current Steve called out as he started to step around the dumpster, but realizing that he was holding Mjolnir in his left hand, stopped short of clearing it entirely, keeping his left arm from his friends' view, leaving the briefcase holding the stones in his visible right hand.

"Uuuuhhhh, what?" Scott muttered.

Other Steve, Bruce and a quickly fully armored Tony took defensive positions at seeing Current Steve. "Prove you're me!" Other Steve ordered.

Current Steve looked from Iron Man to Antman and grinned. "You never apologized to Scott for being ignorant of the EPR Paradox and pushing time through him."

Tony chuckled as he retracted his helmet. "I'm sold."

Current Steve smiled at Scott. "You ever figure out which of you peed yourself?" Antman visibly relaxed and Current Steve then looked up at Bruce. "I've seen her flirting up close." He then smiled. "Relax, it was all for show."

"I'm not sold, not yet." Other Steve growled as he stared intently at his doppelganger. "You obviously have resources, and I'm the one you should have the easiest time convincing. And you'll need to do better than knowing my mother's name."

Current Steve considered what he could say to convince himself that he was himself, but ultimately, he just shrugged and stepped fully into view of the group, revealing his left-hand clutching Thor's hammer. The Avengers once again tensed and prepared for a fight, while Antman looked at them confused.

"Uh, sorry pal, but your research seems to be lacking!" Iron Man growled as Tony aimed his glowing palm at Current Steve.

"Steve, the real Steve, can't lift the hammer!" Bruce snapped.

Current Steve gave an exasperated look to his counterpart. "Do you want to tell them or should I?"

"The hammer was destroyed five years ago." Other Steve snapped.

"Right. Well, Thor…you see, he was feeling a bit…unworthy, and needed a reaffirmation when he went back to 2013 Asgard." Current Steve answered.

"That does sound…Thorry." Scott chimed in.

Bruce gave a wobbly nod and a shrug. "Hate to say it, but it kinda does." The Hulk's demeanor shifted back to one of being on alert. "But even if that's true, you still can't lift it!"

The Steve's once again locked eyes, the intruder raising his eyebrows expectantly. "They're not going to believe me."

"It can be a replica." Other Steve offered a weakened protest, prompting Current Steve to step forward and plant the hammer on the street, looking to Bruce and displaying an offering hand toward it.

"What's going on here?" Scott asked, clearly not following what was being communicated in an only partially verbal manner.

Bruce looked hesitantly to his comrades before slowly stepping toward the weapon and bending over to grip it, casually answering Antman as he wrapped his huge fingers around the grip. "A few years back, or a couple from now, however you want to look at things, we have a party after a battle. As the party wound down, we found ourselves relaxing and shooting the breeze, and the topic of Thor's magic hammer came up. Kind of an Excalibur thing, only someone who is worthy can lift it, and if they're worthy, they're entitled to all Thor's power and the throne of Asgard, or so Thor let on."

"And Captain America wasn't worthy?" Scott belted out disbelievingly.

Tony was studying the face of the Steve he had arrived with intently, noting the hesitance he'd had to pointing out that his look-a-like shouldn't be able to wield the hammer, and muttered out to Hulk as he did so. "Give the shaft a tug already, Banner."

The Hulk gave a tug, then a second, then a third before releasing the grip. "Nada."

Tony was still staring at Other Steve. "Have you been holding out on us, old man?" He then turned to the unknown Steve. "I'm not going to have any more luck than Pea Soup over there, am I?"

A sad look came over Current Steve's face. "If you can't lift it, then I have to question Odin's criteria for worthiness." His eyes drop to the ground. "I continue to exist because of you, Tony. Everyone does."

Tony was stunned as he pieced together what the words and demeanor of this unknown Cap likely meant for him. Perhaps that holo-message he'd left for Pepper and Morgan was necessary after all. He turned to look at the Steve he'd arrived with again, who met his gaze, before turning his confused but intense eyes toward his duplicate.

"I'll know if it's a fake!" Other Steve grumbled threateningly as he marched toward the hammer.

"I know." Current Steve remarked, watching as his slightly younger self walked over and reach for the handle.

"Just know that whatever happens, you have some splainin' to do, Rogers." Tony snapped out of his stunned musings and muttered in a playful yet agitated manner.

"Yeah yeah." Younger Steve said, gripping the handle, pausing, and then lifting the hammer with ease.

"Holy shit." Bruce muttered in awe. "You could have lifted it after Strucker, couldn't you?"

Younger Steve gently tossed the hammer to older Steve as he sought clarification. "I'm assuming you had a good reason for lifting this."

"Of course." Current Steve replied as he caught it. "Though if I do this right, that reason shouldn't come up for you."

"Wait, hold on!" Tony interrupted before turning to stare Other Steve in the eyes. "You lied to us?"

"I…I held back." Slightly younger Steve replied, looking to his other self for support.

Slightly older Steve chuckled. "I already did my explaining to my team, you're on your own, kid."

"Kid?" Younger Steve provided an eyebrow arch, and a very slight smile on his face.

"You didn't want to destroy Thor's self-esteem, right? His place in the universe?" Bruce asked, though already knowing that was the case.

"Wait, so Steve Rogers was 'worthy' to lift the hammer," Scott chimed in, "he could have won whatever pissing contest you were having and had bragging rights forever, but chose to look unworthy so as not to make a Nordic god feel lousy?" A weird smile came over Lang's face as he looked from one Steve Rogers to the other and continuing in a tone of childish hero-worship. "I've never heard of anything more worthy in my life!"

"Ugh, we're going to need another Pym Particle to shrink the boner this guy has for you." Tony grumbled.

"No, wait!" Scott protested, looking to and holding up his hands to both Steves. "It's not like that, not at all. It's just admiration…well, OK, more than admiration, I mean, you're, both of you, you're Captain America. I mean, how can I not…"

"Scott," younger Steve interrupted him, "it's fine, Tony just enjoys making things weird." A smile spread as he heard Tony chuckling.

Older Steve walked forward and gently cupped his younger self on the shoulder, whispering into his ear. "Be thankful you get to explain it to Tony. Take whatever grief he gives you, let him make things as weird as he wants, and be happy for it."

Younger Steve looked at him and nodded as his older self backed up. "So why are you here?"

"The original plan was to return the stones the moment they were taken, but as it turns out, that really won't work." Current Steve explained. "So, I'm meeting each team prior to them snatching the stones and just giving them these." He raised the briefcase.

"Why wouldn't returning the stones work?" Bruce asked.

Current Steve smiled. "This is no reflection on you, Bruce, had every stone extraction gone like yours, returning them would have been a viable option. But there were some messes made."

"Messes?" Younger Steve asked.

Older Steve smiled. "If you were to follow my path, you'd be about to hail Hydra to the entire Strike Team and Sitwell, throw fists with your 2012 self, resorting to telling him that Bucky was alive to distract him so you could warp him with the mind stone spear, and Tony and Scott would lose the Tesseract, which Loki would pick up and use to escape. And then there's the multiple butterfly effects from our side trip. So yeah, messes, too messy to be cleaned up with just a stone being put back. And don't get me started on what I need to clean up on Morag."

"I'm assuming you won." Tony stated. "You're here returning the stones, that's something you'd only need to do if you won. But without the Tesseract, that's not possible."

"Yeah, that's the side trip I mentioned. You and I go back to Camp LeHigh, 1970." Older Steve explained. "Both the Tesseract and Pym Particles were there." He paused, then knelt, placed the briefcase on the ground and opened it. "And I'm going to escort you there now."

"Wait, what?" A confused Scott asked.

"If this is a mission to leave the stones in place, why bother going to 1970?" Bruce asked.

Older Steve looked from one face to the next before answering. "Tony and him-I…and I-I as an escort, have business back there and then. If they choose to elaborate when they return, then so be it. But for now," Steve pulled out the space stone and placed it in a small, specially made container, then did the same with the time stone, and then the mind stone, "please bring these stones back to 2023." He stood up and handed the three stones to Bruce. "And Bruce…" a sad look came over Steve's face, "I promise I'm going to do whatever I can to…make sure some…events from my timeline don't happen."

"I suppose there's no point in me asking what that means." The Hulk muttered as he took the stones.

"Nope. Just trust me." Steve replied quietly. "Oh, and Bruce, it has to be you. Regardless of how insistent Thor may get or how much you think he could use a win, in terms of raw physical power and resistance to gamma radiation, it simply has to be you." Steve noted Bruce's nod before giving a faint smile and turning to himself and Tony, reaching into a pouch on his belt and handing each of them an extra Pym Particle. "Courtesy of Hank Pym. You'll need them to get back to 2023. But for now, set your chronometers to zero four, zero seven, one nine seven zero."

"Why are we doing this?" Younger Steve asked. "Whatever business is there, it would have to be extremely important to risk time travel when, as far as I can tell, it's not necessary."

"I'll explain when we get there." Older Steve replied. "For now, you just need to trust me." Younger Steve and Tony exchanged a glance, but simply nodded and stood next to Older Steve, who looked up to the other two members of the team. "Bruce, Scott, it's been an honor." With that the three slapped their wrists and entered the quantum realm.

After the arrival and a moment of disorientation, Older Steve explained the situation to Tony and his younger counterpart, an explanation Younger Steve was not entirely happy with. "Let me get this straight, you risk the fate of the universe so that Tony can have an ill-advised conversation with Howard, and I can, what, ogle Peggy again? Something equally ill-advised?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Younger Steve growled.

"For Tony, a well-deserved gift." Older Steve elaborated. "For you, the impetus to do what we need to do."

"Seeing Peggy is only going to make me long for what can't happen!" Younger Steve snapped, but then paused as he realized something. "No. No! You can't do that! You don't have the right!"

"I DID do that! We did do that!" Older Steve replied calmly but firmly. "Fury will reveal something to you, something you confirm for yourself."

"It's wrong!" Younger Steve countered, but the resolve in his voice was fading.

Older Steve placed his hand on his younger self's shoulder. "There are four of us on this planet right now. You, me," he glanced and smiled at Tony, "Capsicle, and one other."

"One Other?" Younger Steve whispered disbelievingly. "No."

"You've often wondered why she never told you about her husband, never showed you a picture."

"To spare my feelings. To keep our conversations from being weirder than they already were." Younger Steve replied, though he was now coming to accept the truth.

"No, that's not why." Older Steve gently pressed. "Her children never looked you in the eyes at the funeral."

"So?"

"If they had, you'd have seen Mom's eyes."

Younger Steve shook his head, and then realized something that reinforced his resolve. "No, when she…slipped, when she had a bout of dementia, she said it had been so long!"

Older Steve smiled weakly. "I brought the same thing up to older…much older me…us. He said that while lucid ninety-five percent of the time, she did have spells where she forgot where and when she was and might have said something that could give something away during her visits with younger me after the thaw. So, I guess per his…mine…our suggestion, she played a role. She faked a slip, said something that would make sense to me…us. So that any future real slips where she mentioned something she shouldn't, would, hell, I don't know, be offset to a degree."

"You're saying she lied to me." Younger Steve growled.

"No worse than pretending not to be able to lift a hammer." Tony muttered and gently cupped his friend's shoulder. "She pretended something to make sure that nothing would stop you from returning to her someday. Some day after the twenty-first century is done needing Captain America."

Older Steve smiled at Tony before looking back at himself. "Go in, look into her office and see her, and then tell me this course of action is wrong."

"And me?" Tony asked.

"It was a brief conversation, but you told me you had just gotten the Tesseract out of its vault in the bottom level when he ran into you. You said he was looking for Zola, so, just wait for him there. Obviously don't mess with the Tesseract vault this time." Older Steve replied before pulling Tony into a hug. "I hope this works. I know I came back to remove ripples, but I'm intentionally creating some. If I can create an alternate timeline where Morgan grows up with her father, I have no regrets."

"So, it's true." Tony whispered.

"You couldn't cut the tripwire," Older Steve choked back a sob as he pulled back, "so you laid down on it and let the universe pass over you safely." Older Steve nodded to them and walked over to Mjolnir and the briefcase resting on the ground, setting coordinates into his chronometer and picking them up. "Just keep this Steve's plan post stone return a secret from the others. Bucky figures it out, but that's because he's Bucky." A realization came over Steve, and he gave a panicked look to Tony.

Tony immediately realized what he was concerned about. "It's been a lot of years, and I know the Winter Soldier is gone. Sergeant James Barnes has nothing to fear from me."

Steve smiled. "Thanks Tony." He then looked down at the chronometer. "Godspeed soldiers." With that he slapped his wrist and disappeared.

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Thor and Rocket snuck through the corridor before hiding behind a pillar and looking on to where Jane Foster was being escorted to her room by a servant. "That's Jane." Thor whispered.

"Alright," Rocket replied, "here's the deal, Tubby,"

"Ahem." Both time travelers whipped around to see Steve Rogers standing there. "Took you guys long enough."

"Cap, what are you doing here?" Thor excitedly asked, loud enough to make both Steve and Rocket wince out of fear of getting caught, but there was no sign that they were noticed.

"This would be phase three of the plan." Steve replied with a grin.

"Phase three?" Rocket asked. "I don't remember a phase three. Or a phase one or two for that matter."

"Collect the stones, snap, return the stones." Cap explained, causing the other two to smile broadly at realizing that the collection and snap must have been successful. "Buuuut, the extraction of the stones wasn't as seamless as we'd hoped, so I'm here to give you the stones so you don't need to make a mess stealing them."

"Oh, brilliant." Thor muttered in excited relief.

"Great, so give us the reality stone and we'll get to phase two." Rocket replied.

Steve smiled. "Not just yet."

"What's the hold up, pretty boy?" Rocket replied.

"I believe that he's waiting for me." A feminine voice came from behind Thor and Rocket, and Frigga, Queen of Asgard rounded the pillar and confronted them.

"I was, your highness, though I don't know how you could know that." Steve replied.

"Why do you always insist on underestimating my abilities, Steven?" Frigga asked as she embraced her son. "I always know when you return to Asgard."

Thor was hesitant as to how to proceed, but a reassuring nod from his fellow Avenger let him know that this potential breach in the timeline was alright, and then hugged his mother. Mid-hug however he suddenly turned back to his fellow Avenger. "Steven? Return to Asgard?"

Steve had no answer for his teammate beyond a bewildered look on his face. His eyes darted to Frigga. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, how do we know each other?"

A look of very mild, almost imperceptible sadness came over her face as she and Thor released one another, and she took a deep breath before answering. "Oh, then it's today."

"Mother?" Thor asked. "What's today?"

Frigga reached up and cupped her son's face, giving him a smile. "Do I really need to tell you, my son?" A look of horrific realization came over Thor. "I suppose I should have recognized that time was getting short once the two of you came to know one another. I knew the Captain of Vinland would become one of your Midgardian comrades, but…" she trailed off as she smiled deeply into her son's face. "So why are you here, my son?"

"Uhhh," Thor looked pleadingly to Steve, completely unsure as to how to proceed.

"Your son could use your council." Steve replied, then bowed. "And I'm really just the Captain of one of many sections of Vinland…and that designation is more of a stage name than anything. Anyway, I will take my leave, your highness."

"Steven?" Frigga gently called out to him. He looked up at her with a smile. "I thank you for the friendship you've given my son, and for your service to Asgard."

"My whatnow?" Steve asked, again utterly confused.

"Rogers?" Thor asked in a low, almost threatening tone, to which Steve could only shrug, but then something dawned on him. "Look, you guys don't need me for this, you talk, Rocket, you lay low til they're done, I'll give you these things…" Steve walked over to a large potted collection of flowers and pulled his briefcase from behind it, withdrawing the reality stone in a protective case and then reaching back behind the pot to grab Mjolnir, standing and heading back to Thor, "and I'll be on my way."

"Rogers!" Thor nearly shouted in disbelief.

"What's going on?" Rocket asked, completely unaware of the reason for Thor's new confused agitation. "Wait, is that the hammer you were crying about losing? The one we went to Nivadellir to replace?" The racoon chuckled. "So, he's inexplicably familiar with your mom, he's been popping in and out of Asgard for a while, and he stole your precious hammer." The furry creature looked up at Captain America. "You may want to start running flag-boy, I've seen people killed over much less."

"How?" Thor asked, ignoring Rocket.

"You retrieved it from here along with the Aether and returned to 2023 with them." Steve replied.

"Yes…" Thor motioned to his beloved hammer, "but how?" He asked again, but the pieces started to connect for him, and realization set it. "I saw it move, but assumed it was a trick of the eyes."

"Yeah, with Mjolnir comes your strength, which surged through me like a rush of electricity, causing me to pause." Steve explained.

"Yes, though why didn't you lift it?" Thor asked, slightly hurt.

"Well…" Steve paused, "you know Tony," Steve stammered out quickly, "and his ego. He tried, was fully expecting to be able to lift the hammer and be entitled to all that comes with it, only to fail. It would have crushed him to see me lift the hammer at that point."

"Oh, oh yes, of course." Thor replied, quickly accepting the reasoning, not seeing his mother roll her knowing eyes, even as he turned toward her to explain their armored friend. "Stark's ego is legendary!" He turned back to Steve. "That was very gracious of you Captain. You are a good friend to the Man of Iron."

"I hope so." Steve said wistfully, handing Thor the hammer and stooping to give Rocket the encased stone, but he turned one last time to look fondly at Mjolnir. "That's a magnificent weapon, Thor, you're lucky to have had it."

"You wielded it in battle?" Thor asked, and at seeing Steve smile and nod felt an even greater send of brotherhood with the human than he had already felt. "You have much to tell me, my friend."

Steve smiled at his friend. "If I do this right, then hopefully there won't be anything to tell. Just remember to give it to the me from your timeline to return to you here in the next loop."

"What?" A confused Thor asked.

Steve smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder. "Goodbye Thor." He looked down. "Rocket, travel well." He then looked at Frigga and adopted an odd look. "Your highness. I…I'm not sure this is goodbye."

"For you, Steven, it is not." Sadness mixed with her smile. "For me, it is."

"It is a pleasure to have met you, Queen Frigga." Steve bowed.

"It is a pleasure to have known you, Steven." She gave him a smile before turning to her son, taking him by the arm, and guiding him elsewhere to talk.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"Alright, bring it down low." Rhodey called out to the descending ship. "Right on that line."

"Hey, can we hurry it up?" Barton shot out to bust Rhodey's balls.

"Guys, chop-chop." Natasha chimed in. "Come on, we're on a clock."

Rhodey headed toward them in feigned annoyance as Nebula exited the landed Benatar. "All that, is really helpful." He embraced Natasha.

"Touching." An unexpected voice rang out over the desolate landscape, causing the four time-travelers to turn and train their various weapons on the speaker. "At ease." Steve smiled, holding up his hands submissively, the briefcase in his left hand.

Rhodey laughed. "Is that what I think it is?"

Clint marched toward Cap intensely, his gaze locked onto his friend's eyes. "Did we do it? Are they…" his voice cracked, "are they?" He whispered pleadingly. Steve smiled and nodded, prompting Clint to collapse to his knees and fight the urge to sob.

Natasha was kneeling next to him in a moment, embracing him, the sight of her quietly celebrating with Clint caused a shard of agony to cut through Steve; but it would only need to be agony if he failed to do what he needed to do. "Rhodey." Steve called out, breaking himself out of his thoughts. "If you're able, I need you to create some sort of jamming or dampening field around us. Something that will prevent anything from being transmitted from our group."

"I can try." Rhodey replied as his helmet snapped back into place over his head. "Why?"

"Apparently Nebula and her 2014 counterpart share some sort of frequency, and their memories can be accessed by one another." Steve quickly explained.

"Shit!" Nebula growled. "I can't believe I didn't consider that."

"What does this mean?" Natasha asked as both she and Clint broke off their silent celebration and stood back up, preparing to take whatever action would be necessary.

"We're OK, but we need to get you all back before we're detected." Steve replied, kneeling and setting the briefcase on the ground. "Besides, it turns out that our plan for retrieving the power stone wouldn't work, so it needed pre-empting anyway."

"Why wouldn't it work?" Clint asked.

"Rocket just knew Quill got the stone here, but he wasn't aware of the details. Basically, rendering Quill unconscious to wake up later to get the stone isn't an option." Steve explained as he unlocked the case. "Kree fanatics were in the chamber with Quill seconds after he got the orb possessing the stone free of the construct containing it. Any delay would cause a butterfly effect that we couldn't…" he opened the case and his blood ran cold by what he saw, or rather failed to see, "correct." There was the power stone, glowing at him from within the case, but the soul stone, which had been in the case when he had opened it last on Asgard, was now missing. It seemed that true to its name, the soul stone possessed sentience, and that sentience chose not to be cheated of the price to obtain it. His mind flashed for a solution, but only one came to him. "I'm sorry Peggy, I tried." He whispered to himself.

"Steve, what is it?" Rhodey asked.

"Nothing." Steve got back into character as he encased the power stone in its enhanced mini-orb, stood up and extended his arm to hand it to Rhodes. "Take this and return to 2023 with Nebula, Colonel."

"What's wrong?" Rhodey asked, recognizing Steve was keeping something from them.

"Nothing, just that Clint, Nat and I need to go to Vormir to see to something." Steve replied.

"There's more to this," Rhodey protested, "but I'm not willing to guarantee my attempts to block Nebula's brain transmissions will keep out any alien technology that may come prying."

"Good, get back home." Steve replied. "And Rhodey…" he paused and stepped in close, giving the man a hug and whispering in his ear, "it's been an honor."

"Steve…" Rhodey whispered back, recognizing what Steve wasn't saying.

"The mission, whatever it takes." Steve said, and the two separated. A moment later Rhodey and Nebula were standing next to each other, they gave the three-remaining time-heisters a look before slapping their wrists and vanishing. Seeing Nebula vanish from 2014 removed a huge weight from Steve but looking over and seeing Nat standing next to Clint reminded him of the other huge weight pressing down on him. 'You knew there'd be a price old man,' Steve thought to himself, 'and if it means Natasha lives, then it's one you're happy to pay.'

"Steve," Natasha hesitantly broke the silence, "you need to explain what's going on."

"I'll tell you on the way." Steve told the partial truth as he snapped the briefcase shut and headed toward the space craft. An hour into the flight Steve was nearing the end of his heavily edited and altered re-counting of what had happened in his reality, choosing to omit a great deal, including Natasha's fate. "So, I fade out for a moment, and in a dreamlike state kinda blurrily make out Thor tossing Mjolnir up, and then bashing it like a baseball with Stormbreaker, sending it careening toward Thanos. Unfortunately, Thanos has gotten a hold of Tony and Thanos uses Tony as a shield, which Mjolnir hits, knocking Tony out. Of course Thor charges Thanos as I'm trying to get my body to respond, they disarm each other but Thanos is just too powerful and Thor starts losing the slug-fest. He summons Stormbreaker, but Thanos intercepts it…"

"Intercepts it?" Clint interrupted. "I thought only the worthy could wield it."

"There were spells or enchantments or whatever that were placed on Mjolnir that weren't placed on Stormbreaker." Steve explained. "So Thanos caught it, and was using it against Thor, forcing the axe-blade into Thor's chest. At this point my body is still sketchy, but it's starting to work, so I…well, I find something and fling it at Thanos, knocking him off Thor."

"Your shield?" Nat asked.

"No."

"What, like a cinder block or piece of rubble?" Clint asked, knowing those couldn't be the answer. "I've never seen the guy, but if he out-slugged the Hulk, the real Hulk and not the shrunk-down light-green nerd-Hulk Banner has become, then hitting him with anything less than a nuke isn't going to knock him off Thor."

"You're not the only one with pretty good aim here, Clint." Steve shot back evasively. "I hit him in a sweet-spot."

"With what?" Nat pressed.

"I don't know." Steve replied.

"I know." Clint chuckled, then turned his head and looked at Nat, who suddenly pursed her lips and adopted an annoyed look. "You owe me fifty bucks."

"We don't know that." She came back.

"Yeah we do." Clint continued laughing. "I told you it moved."

"Steve?" Nat pressed for confirmation, prompting Steve to shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Steve!"

"Fine, yes, it was Mjolnir!" Steve grumbled. "Happy?"

"No, I'm not happy." Nat replied over Clint's louder laughter, bearing a smile despite her words. "I'm out fifty dollars."

"Steven Grant Rogers, Earth's first super soldier, leader of the Avengers, King of Asgard." Clint recited playfully.

"I'm an American, I can't be king of anything." Steve replied grumpily.

"Now Steve, I may have been born and raised in Russia," Nat replied playfully, "but I believe Article One, Sections Nine and Ten of the US Constitution only forbids the states and federal government from granting royal titles. There's nothing forbidding an American citizen from accepting such a title."

"I'd have expected Captain America to be more knowledgeable regarding American civics." Clint chided good-naturedly.

"Tonsberg is a swell town but marching around there telling alien immigrants what to do doesn't seem like something that I'd be up for." Steve countered in playful annoyance. "Though I will say that having Thor's strength, durability and weather manipulation while holding the hammer was pretty cool."

"Steve," Nat's voice possessed a serious tone that countered the playful bantering, "I did take Bruce aside and talk to him prior to him snapping his fingers, right?"

"You thinking of talking him out of it?" Clint questioned jokingly.

"No, but there'd have been a few things I'd want to share with him prior to him doing something that would possibly kill him." Nat replied as she studied Steve's pained face.

"Nat, we do things that could possibly kill us all the time, and you're not prompted to bare your soul every time." Clint replied.

"Yeah, but usually it's a case where if it'll kill the Hulk, I'm already long dead." She replied, watching Steve struggle to say something, but continuing just as he starts to open his mouth. "What's going to happen on Vormir, Steve?"

Steve looks her in the eye and shrugs unconvincingly. "You guys were pretty vague about what happened. There's some red sort of phantasm that demands an unspecified price. Whatever the case, as Clint said, I'm the leader of the Avengers and I'm going to need you guys to do as I say, no questions asked."

Nat maintained her eye-lock on him. "And as I've said," she rolled out slowly, "you're a terrible liar."

"What's going on, guys?" Clint asked sharply.

"You had your phone call." Nat replied, her eyes still locked on Steve. "But Cap's recounting had very little mention of me."

"It was a brief overview." Steve replied.

"Steve, we're heading into a mission with a target we must acquire at all costs against what may be a hostile enemy." Nat pressed. "You want to be leader, then do the responsible thing and tell us everything you know about what we're about to face. That compartmentalizing stuff worked for Nick, but you're not Nick."

"Cap," Clint chimed in, "I'm pretty sure you owe us the truth."

Steve sighed, considered for a moment, but finally decided they were right. "OK, but it's important, vitally important that what happened in my timeline need not happen in this one. Hell, I've already lost track of all the changes I've made to it." He looked at each of them one at a time before going on. "The soul stone requires a price, and that price is the life of one you love. Nebula mentioned that Thanos got the stone after going to Vormir with her sister, his other daughter, and returning without her. According to…" Steve paused and looked down, hesitant to remove all doubt as to what had happened, but then finally looking up at Clint, "your report, you were confronted by a shadowy ghost-like entity with a red face. It spoke to the two of you, not via universal translation tech like Rocket or Nebula, or some mystical all-speak like Asgardians, but he was speaking English to you, albeit with a Germanic accent. Anyway, this red ghost guy tells you that one of you can leave with the stone, but the other must die." He looked back down at the floor of the ship. "After mulling it over for some time, you fight, Clint thought he won, and went to die, but Nat, well." Steve shook his head sadly. "She always finds a way."

"No!" Clint roared. "Are you kidding me? After all the shit I've done the last few years!" He pointed at Natasha furiously. "I'm hitting that goddamned ground and you're bringing that stone back!"

"No." Steve stated firmly. "I've been dead since that plane hit the ice in forty-five! My sole existence has been about service, I've been defrosted long enough to know that that isn't going to change, no matter how acclimated I get to the twenty-first century, so damnit, let me serve!" He looked intently at Natasha. "You and I have been close since taking down SHIELD, these past five years we've been all each other has had. Clint and I are friends, but at the risk of being presumptuous, I'm going to assume you see me as family. That losing me would hurt you enough to entitle you to receive the soul stone." He ignored the short weep that Natasha forced herself to stifle. "So, the solution here is very, very clear. It's time to let the one-hundred-five-year-old man die!" He then smiled weakly at the floor. "And this time, you can tell Bruce whatever you need to tell him prior to the big snap."

Natasha, her eyes welling with tears, turned away from his gaze, inadvertently looking toward the front of the cockpit and through the screen. "We're here."

Steve and Clint looked forward as well and noticed. "It's been beyond an honor to have served with the both of you. I do this knowing that the Avengers, and the world, are in good hands."

"Shut up Steve." Natasha whispered as she stood up and walked toward the back of the ship.

Steve stood up and followed. "Nat?"

She turned and embraced him tightly. "Damn it, Steve, maybe you're right, maybe you aren't, but even if you are, you can't expect me to like it!" She pulled back a little and hit his chest angrily, but only hard enough to let him know she was hurting and angry at him. "You can't just drop this proclamation like it's a typical damn order issued to a subordinate!"

"Nat," Steve pleaded softly, "I know it's a terrible thing to just announce to you two, and you're definitely not a subordinate."

"That's good to hear." Nat said softly as she cupped Steve's cheek and gently slid her hand to his neck. "I think an equal would get in less trouble for this than a subordinate would." A surge of electricity shot through Steve, and as he fell to the ground, he cursed himself for once again being so naïve in dealing with the Black Widow.

"What the hell?" Barton snapped as he heard the thud and turned to see Cap on the floor.

"It can't be him!" Nat shot back. "I'm pretty sure we're on the same page with this, right?"

"Captain America, who can now turn into a god just by grabbing a hammer?" Clint said as he stood up. "Agreed on that, but it's not going to be you either!"

"Don't even think of trying to take me out!" Nat said as Cap struggled to fight off unconsciousness. Any attempt to move his body was futile. "Someone dying isn't the price from what I can tell. It's someone being there to feel pain as someone they love dies. We can cross that bridge when we get to it, but both of us need to show up to the bridge." Nat looked down at Steve. "I hit him with a jolt that would knock a three-hundred-pound man out for six hours. I figure we've got another ninety seconds before Rogers starts to wiggle out of it." She pulled a small epi-pen from a narrow cylindrical compartment on her left wrist gauntlet, knelt and gently pressed her lips to Steve's forehead before whispering in his ear. "There's nothing presumptuous about you, Steve, you are family, and I love you as much as I've ever loved anyone. And honor isn't a big enough word for what it's been to serve at your side. Now go have those babies with Peggy already."

"Naaaaa…"

She looked at him with tear-filled eyes as she injected him with the strong sedative. "I like to snoop as much as Nick does. And do you really think I wouldn't recognize a portrait of Director Carter? Goodbye Steve." Everything faded to black.

Steve slowly came to, the cold rock of the ground pressing against his cheek proved to be the first stimuli to interrupt the void, but then thoughts and memories came flooding back, and in an instant he was up on his wobbly feet, forcing them to pump his body over the rocky, desolate landscape. The ship was gone, but that had always been part of the plan. Clint and Nat would shrink it, contain it, and give it back to Rocket upon their return to 2023; a time that Nat had revealed that she knew Steve would not be returning to, so she and Clint removed him from the craft and left him there. Ahead, in the distance stood a mount with two pillars built on it, just as Clint had described. He sprinted over the increasingly uneven surface, up the mountain, each stride qualifying as a leap for lesser men, each leap looked almost like flight until gravity finally pulled him back to the ground. He sped further upward, he did have limits, but such things would not be a consideration now. Another leap and he was landing on the flattened peak, he sprinted ahead and saw a carved valley created by the pillars, and the cliff beyond. From beyond the cliff he heard cries of agony, masculine cries, Barton's cries of anguish. A bright light flashed all around a moment before Steve got to the edge, causing him to fall to the ground, momentarily blinded and disoriented. A few moments passed before he recovered, and he dove to look over the edge, his belly flattened to the rocky ground and he looked down to see several straps connected to ballistic pitons that Black Widow frequently equipped herself with, but the straps swung freely, whatever may have been attached to or gripping them gone. He then looked down, past the straps to the rocky ground below, where he saw Natasha splayed out, blood pooling beneath her. "NOOOO!"

"The pain of Clint, son of Edith, was sufficient to free the stone." An impossibly familiar, and subtly amused voice came from behind him. Steve whirled around and looked up at what was perhaps his greatest enemy. "But your pain, Steven, son of Joseph and Sarah, that is a pleasure made absolute bliss at realizing you get nothing for it." He wasn't human, in the forties he'd bragged about transcending his humanity, but this time his claims of not being human were more than just arrogant bluster aided by a flawed enhancement serum. Steve instinctively reached for his shield, but immediately recognized that it was no longer with him, so he leapt up and forward to deliver a haymaker, a punch that went right through the non-corporeal former Nazi.

"Steven, do not be a fool." Schmidt chuckled. "At best, you were merely my equal before, but now, you are a mere mortal, a being of simple matter with all the limitations that come with it, one of the lower to middling rung species of material mortals to be honest, facing a creature beyond your ability to comprehend. To be fair, with your enhancements I suppose you might qualify as a bit more formidable than the mean regarding humanoid flesh creatures, but not by much. And you face me without a weapon. But me, well Steven, the Tesseract has finally lifted me to a higher plain of existence. Made me far more than even you, the pinnacle of humanity. I am finally a god!"

"You're no god." Steve chuckled. "You're a specter, forced to stay on a lifeless ball of rock acting as a map for treasure hunters. Your abilities are a joke, your immortality a curse. But I've met some of those beings that you used to worship as gods. I'm going to clue you in to something; they're not gods either, they're just aliens." Steve then raised his hand toward the sky, his palm open as if to catch something. "But these aliens do wield great power, a power that falls in that blurred area between science and magic, and for whatever reason they've found me worthy of possessing some of that power; at least in the narrow window between 2011 and 2018 that we currently find ourselves in. So, if you truly want to have a battle between gods, just give the word. According to Thor I can summon Mjolnir to even this remote location, and with it the power of the god of thunder!"

The Red Skull glared at Rogers for a moment before waving his hand. "I can see into the souls of those that come here. You do question the hammer's ability to cover such a range of space in so short a span of time, but otherwise I see you are telling the truth. No matter, whether your claims are true or not, I have no desire to fight you, even were attacking you an option."

"You can't initiate aggression?" Steve asked incredulously.

"No." Schmidt replied. "I am able to defend myself, but only to the point where it no longer qualifies as defense."

"Wow, a muzzled Nazi, this truly is hell for you." Steve allowed himself the rarity of being cruel.

"Nazi!" Schmidt spat. "A necessary means to growing my Hydra, and nothing more. The recruitment of Jews and other races, something that would have driven Hitler and his sycophants ravenous with outrage, was not a concept concocted by Zola. I shared my vision with him. I do believe that there are Ubermensch, or at least those capable of becoming them, but unlike Hitler I do not believe them to be confined to any particular race, creed, or religion. I am no more a Nazi than you are a segregationist, my blood-soaked American friend!"

"I never claimed to be a segregationist, I never championed their cause, either in earnest or with empty lip-service, I opposed them the moment I was old enough to know what it was, and long before becoming Captain America I actively and publicly sought to remove that injustice!" Steve shot back. "Never compare me to you again!"

"Ah, perhaps you do possess the courage of your convictions, to the point where you sabotage your long term vision." Schmidt chuckled. "I agree, in this way, and many others we do differ."

Steve stared at Schmidt. "You're not permitted to lie to me, are you?"

Schmidt scowled, an action not entirely decipherable with the skull-like face of his, but Steve could tell he would rather not have to answer this question. "I need not divulge anything to you, but no, I cannot lie."

Steve allowed himself a measured, very restrained degree of hope. "Can I trade places with the Black Widow?"

A broad smile stretched across the red face. "No, Steven, Natasha, daughter of Ivan, is gone, and there is nothing you can do to change that fact."

Steve sadly nodded. "Then there is no reason for me to stay another second here. Enjoy your eternity of hell alone."

"Visitors come from time to time, Steven." Schmidt replied with a light laugh. "I assume you and your comrades came here to get the stone before another soon to be visitor could get it."

"You have a few years, but yeah." A perplexed look came over Steve. "Which does make me wonder what will happen when Thanos gets here to find the soul stone gone."

"Wait." Schmidt held up his hand, waiting for something to happen. "There, your friend finally finished weeping and disappeared from this time, back to wherever you fools came from." A twist of his wrist and Schmidt was holding the soul stone between his thumb and forefinger. "Like with the other stones, there were two of each in existence while you were returning them, then back to one as each of your friends returned to the future with what you gave them. But the soul stone is too clever for you to out-maneuver and cheat. Not a difficult feat, after all, you are just a simpleton, though no longer with a shield I see."

Steve nodded as he looked down at his wrist and adjusted his chronometer, pausing several times to consider things before entering what were likely the final coordinates he would ever enter. "Yup, well, as I was saying, enjoy your eternity of hell. It's time I went and had a life." Steve smiled at his old enemy before slapping his wrist, relishing in the look of hatred to come over the Red Skull's face just as he disappeared.

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'Lehigh on the Hog' was a diner a half mile outside the base that, despite its terrible name, actually served food that was quite good, and if Peggy needed a temporary sanctuary away from the Army base that was in the midst of transitioning to the new SHIELD headquarters, and her schedule allowed an escape, the greasy spoon was her favorite local go-to. In many ways it was nice to be back in Wheaton, New Jersey, it was fun catching up with Sergeant Duffy and several others, and there were also new friends to be made. As she entered the diner, she saw one such new face, or rather his back as he was seated at the counter studying the menu, the ever friendly Captain Rod Elliott, who had been stationed at Camp Lehigh a few months prior to Peg's recent arrival. Rod always went out of his way to chat Peggy up, but not in a way that made her feel like he was coming on to her, he seemed genuinely and innocuously interested in her, and while he didn't have clearance to know the details of what she was doing there, he was still easy to talk to and a good sounding board when she needed one. "Good morning Captain Elliott."

Captain Elliott turned and smiled at her. "Agent Carter," he looked down at his watch, "yes, I guess it is still morning, but not for much longer."

"A few things came up that prevented me from escaping earlier. Enjoy your breakfast, Rod." She smiled as she walked down the aisle and slid into her favorite booth. She was just getting settled as the bell at the door chimed again, indicating another patron, and a moment later that patron walked past Peggy and slid into the booth directly ahead of her. He was a large man with broad shoulders, the rest of his torso concealed by a jacket that seemed a bit baggier than the weather would require, and he must have grabbed a menu because he was already face-down scrutinizing it, the bill of his Brooklyn Dodgers cap covering his face entirely, as he slid into the seat facing her. Peggy looked down at her own menu and pretended to be weighing her options, scrolling through the offerings in a vain attempt to keep her mind from going back to the catalog of memories related to one specific person, a person now long gone. Returning to Wheaton had made them more abundant than they'd been in the last couple years despite her impossible workload. Regardless of how busy she was, she just couldn't stop a flood of memories of a scrawny recruit futilely trying to keep up with his physical training, or considering options unrelated to brawn, or any of the other things that set him apart from the other would-be super soldiers. She smiled down at the menu as she remembered the terror that shot through her at hearing Steve's cries of agony from within Stark's vita-ray chamber. It was at that moment that she realized, just as it seemed she was about to lose him, she couldn't lose him. It was more than just concern that forced her to bolt out of the waiting area and insist the procedure be stopped, it was…

She pushed the menu away. Looking at it wasn't helping distract her from thoughts about Steven G. Rogers, and like with those thoughts, it was ultimately pointless. She was going to have what she always had, and Steve was going to remain at the bottom of the ocean, or the glaciers of the north Atlantic, or wherever he'd put that cursed airship down. The only man she'd ever loved, a man that was perfect within long before he was perfect without, a man who'd saved the lives of millions and the freedom of everyone else lay in an unknown location, his body never to be given the memorial he deserved. She shook her head as another unbidden tear threatened to trickle from her eye. She quickly glanced up and covered the area of the diner in her view-line; the waitress was busy with a couple seated against the adjacent wall, and the broad-shouldered man in the Dodgers cap in the booth two down from her was still buried in the menu, far too engrossed in the diner's offerings to have noticed her slip in composure. Captain Elliott was behind her and wouldn't have noticed, so she gently and discreetly dabbed her eye, screwed her resolve, and waited patiently for Doris, the waitress, to make her way to Peggy's booth. Doris finished taking the order and started to make her way toward Peggy but paused at the Dodgers' fan's booth. "Need some time sweetie?" The man just nodded his downward facing head, prompting Doris to continue to Peggy, displaying a huge grin as she did so. "Your usual, English?"

"I really do hate being so predictable," Peggy replied with a grin, "but yes."

Doris, a divorcee in her mid-fifties, nodded toward the man in the cap behind her and whispered, her words barely hearable. "No wedding ring."

"Thank you, Doris, just the eggs, sausage and hash browns if you please." Peggy replied good naturedly, pulling a file out of her leather attaché case and opening it on the table. It was more a distraction than anything, all documents of vital importance were kept at the base, this was just her ongoing and ultimately pointless back and forth with Washington to either relocate the subterranean bunker, or at least disguise it as something other than a munitions depot. She had noticed the moment she'd returned to Camp Lehigh to see it being built that it was too close to some barracks, a clear violation of U.S. Army regulations, something even an idiot could see. They admitted that it was an oversight, apologized for it, but ultimately, they disagreed in how obvious it was and felt nobody other than her would notice. She skimmed over the polite yet condescending refusal to make her requested changes, allowing her annoyance to replace her prior reminiscing, when one of the diner's circular cardboard drink coasters landed on the memo. She looked up to see that the only person that could have thrown it, the man in the baseball cap, was still peering down at his menu, pretending not to have thrown it. Peggy glanced back down to see that in addition to the name of the diner and its logo were words written in black ink. 'Don't shoot - flip over'. Peggy flipped the coaster over with her left hand as the right slid slowly toward her sidearm; probably just a childish flirtation, but in her line of work she couldn't be too careful. On the underside was more writing, 'I swear it's me, I'll explain everything. Don't make a scene, can't let anyone else know I'm back.' She gripped the handle of her pistol as she slowly looked up to see blue eyes peering back at her from beneath the bill of his cap. She froze, and this man, one that was identical to Steve, gave a smile that was as nervous as it was joyful. She wanted to cry out, she wanted to run to him; she drew her sidearm and pointed it in his direction under the table.

He noticed and interpreted her subtle, unseen movements correctly and gave a playful grin as he showed both palms. He then slowly rose to his feet and cautiously made his way to her booth, sitting across from her. "Hi."

'Hi'! Sodding 'hi'! Whether Steve or an imposter, 'hi' was most definitely not an acceptable first thing to say! "You're going to have to do better than 'hi'." Peggy growled. "Know that if you're an imposter, there's no way I won't be able to detect it. And if that's the case, dropping the charade now is the only way you get out of this alive. I'm hoping that you don't drop it, because I'm really looking forward to killing you."

"I don't remember you being so blood thirsty, Peggy." This possibly-but-not-realistically Steve replied.

"Well, it has been three years." She growled.

"Been much longer than that for me." 'Steve' smiled in that infuriatingly charming way of his, a memory of his 'longest conversation with a woman' remark barreled its way into her head.

"Care to elaborate?" She played along, keeping her finger hovering over the trigger under the table.

"Roughly seventy-eight years." Steve smirked. "Though really, just eleven of those really count."

"This is not a damn game!" Peggy snarled, prompting 'Steve' to nod solemnly.

"O.K., you're right." He stared deeply into her eyes, and suddenly she knew. She had no idea as to how this could be happening, and her training would force her to go through the motions of making him explain and convince her rationally, but she knew. "Schmidt held the Tesseract, and I assumed it vaporized him. Turns out, it transported him…" he shook his head, "we'll circle back to that, I need to convince you I'm telling the truth, and delving into that little tidbit would be counterproductive at this time. Anyway, Schmidt was gone, and I piloted the plane into the ice."

"Stop." She looked at him teary-eyed. "We had a conversation."

He nodded. "Eight O'clock next Saturday…well, I'm sorry Peggy, as usual, I'm late. I figured once you'd gotten your career kicked off and on track would be a better time to drop in on you, but I still owe you that dance. It's all I've thought about since waking up…in 2012."

"What?" Peggy gasped.

"Making friends, are we?" Doris quipped as she reappeared at the side of the table.

Peggy looked up and forced a smile. "It would appear so." She looked to Steve. "This is…"

Steve smiled up at Doris. "Sam Wilson. Pleasure to meet you ma'am."

"Nice to meet you too, Sam. Always a pleasure to meet a fellow Dodgers fan. What did you think of them signing Robinson last season?" She smiled.

"I'd never been prouder to call myself a Dodgers fan than when I read about that." Steve/Sam smiled.

Doris nodded. "Still need more time, or are you ready to order?"

"Six eggs, scrambled, two sides of sausage, two sides of bacon, hash browns and toast." Steve replied, noting the funny look. "I haven't eaten in a while."

"Clearly." Doris replied. "I'll get that right in."

"Thank you, ma'am." Steve replied, watched her leave and then turned to Peggy. "You heard me correctly. I went into the ice in 1945, I was discovered in 2012, and as they were thawing out my corpse it was discovered to everyone's surprise that I was still alive."

"But…how?" Peggy gasped.

Steve shrugged. "Erskine's formula. Every time I think I've exceeded the limits of what his enhancements can do, he winds up proving me wrong."

Peggy simply stared at him; her gun now pointed at the floor. It took her a moment to regain her composure. "So, you wake up in 2012, hop in a time machine and swing by to visit me."

"There's a lot more to it than that, I'll give you every detail…at least every detail that I can without altering the future too much." Steve slowly slid his right hand across the table and covered her left hand, still clutching the coaster, the warmth coming from his skin made her entire body tingle. "But Peggy, this isn't a visit. I have no plans of ever jumping through time again. That is, unless you have any objections."

Peggy stared deeply into Steve's eyes. She still had countless questions, but all doubt was gone. "Doris, could we take our meals to go?" She called out.

"Sure thing, English!" Doris called back.

"Me too Doris." Captain Elliott called out. "Busy day at the base for me too."

"You got it, Rod." Doris replied.

Several minutes later Peggy and Steve exited the diner, followed several seconds later by Captain Elliott. "Maybe I'll catch you at the base, Peggy."

"Not today Rod." Peggy called back over her shoulder as she and Steve made their way to her car. "I have a friend visiting from out of town. I'll call Colonel Phillips and explain my absence."

"Well, have a good day." Elliott replied as he watched Agent Carter and her friend from out of town get into her car and drive away. He sent a casual glance back through the glass door of the diner, verified nobody was looking, and then his body morphed into that of Loki, the Asgardian god of mischief. "It's about time."


End file.
